Granny’s Song

If the fact itself were not

at odds with most of my hopes

for human life, I’d want

to know why sex was always best

when I stood to lose the most.

Why make its charms so devilishly

proximal to risk?

The patterns ought to favor

children’s best protection—not

one parent hardened and one hurt;

one predator, one weak. But nurturance

appeared to have no part

in our old fastest appetites—our grappling hooks

and eye-meats. Well, a mortally afflicted tree

will scatter seed. That’s nature’s way

of furthering its kind. In my own

sixties (here where issue’s not the issue—

not unless I go to Delhi for

an embryo implant, and let me tell you

I am not that nuts)—here newly

sixtified, I say, I’d settle for

a kindness: tender looks not

tenterhooks; a cuddle,

not a cattle-prod. Dear god,

you made me pull away from every

club and strut and hoe. Don’t now

on my account, sweet chariot,

swing so damn low.